Remember Me
by Fantasygirl721
Summary: One week left, one last chance to get the Colt back so Sammy has some protection after Dean’s gone. Only what starts out persuasive becomes a bit personal. Dean/Bela.


Summary: One week left, one last chance to get the Colt back so Sammy has some protection after Dean's gone. Only what starts out persuasive becomes a bit personal. Dean/Bela. 

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or anyone/anything affiliated with it. I'm just playing in their sandbox. Oh, and kudos to Journey for their great song whose title I stole. 

A/N: Just a little something to ease the pain of waiting for new episodes to come back. I tried messing with Dean and Bela, drawing on angst and pain and came up with this little ficlet. It might be a little on the OOC side, but not much (I hope). So let me know what you think. Remember, reviews are love. 

_**Remember Me**_

"Las Vegas, Dean?" Sam looked across the front seat of the Impala at his brother, who just pulled up to the motel. 

"Yeah Sammy, live a little." Dean shot his brother his trademark smirk. "C'mon, there's hot chicks, parties, booze, all the fun in the world, did I mention there's hot chicks?" 

"You've got a week left." Sam could see the energy drain out of Dean as his words echoed in the sudden silence. 

"So I might as well enjoy what time I've got left." He looked over at Sam, who was giving him that _You-should-really-start-taking-this-seriously_ look. "Sammy, we've got nothing. I'm going to hell and there's nothing we can do about it. And I'm not spending the last week of my life doing research."

Though his throat felt a little tight, Sammy managed to choke out, "Sure Dean, why not?"

"Thanks Sammy," Dean looked at him, "You coming?"

"No, I'll just stay here and rest…maybe do some research." 

"You sure?" Sam just nodded his head, "Okay geek boy, have fun. I'm gonna hit the casinos."

"Yeah, go ahead bro. I'll see you later." Sam hopped out of the car, a little quicker than normal, grabbed his stuff, and headed towards check-in, not looking back once. 

Sighing, Dean pulled out of the parking lot and starting driving off. He hated lying to Sam, but he had found _her_. After all this fruitless, exasperating, and seemingly endless searching he had finally tracked that damn bitch down. Being in a somewhat delicate situation, he just couldn't afford to bring Sam along. No, you needed a special touch to handle a bitch of this magnitude, and it was something that little Sammy just wasn't made for. 

Heading across town to the fanciest and most expensive hotel in all of Las Vegas, Dean looked down to check that his gun was loaded. "Bela, here I come." 

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Picking her lock was easier than he expected. There was no security, hell; an amateur could do this job. Glancing around he saw the swank furnishings, the obviously expensive coat that was carelessly thrown across the couch. This was definitely her room, for there was nothing too ostentatious, it all looked elegant. He hated to admit it, but for a thieving bitch, she sure had style. 

Tiptoeing down the hall, he threw open the door the master bedroom. There she was, lying in her huge, four poster bed, caught up in deep sleep. Until she heard him cock the gun, that is. Sitting bolt upright, clutching the sheet to herself, her frantic eyes fell upon Dean Winchester, standing in her bedroom door, gun raised and smirk grimly in place. "Dean," she breathed in relief, "sweetheart, so good to see you again." 

If there was one person that she wasn't afraid of, it was Dean. 

Her words brought a cold chuckle from Dean's lips, so cold that it sent a shiver running down her spine. "Really cute Bela, but I didn't come here for pillow talk. Where is my Colt?" 

There was a harden look to his hazel eyes that Bela hadn't noticed before, but noticing it now, started to make her reassess her earlier decision. Maybe Dean was to be feared. "C'mon now honey, you really aren't going to shoot me." He just smirked wider. "Are you?" There was a slight hint of fear in her voice. 

"Well that depends, are you gonna give me my gun back?" Moving out of the doorway, gun still steadily pointed at her the whole time, Dean came to sit beside her on the bed. He raised one hand, the one without the gun, and ran his fingers across her smooth cheek. "It would be such a shame to kill you." 

"Dean," she was breathing shakily, his hand felt so tender on her face, but the cold barrel between her breasts reminded her of what this man could do. "Dean…please, it's just a gun." 

"Ah, but it's so much more." His hand trailed down her cheek, his fingers dancing lightly over her neck. "That gun is our best chance against an army Bela—not just many but a whole fucking _**army **_of demons." While he had been talking, his hand has snaked around the back of her neck, and he yanking her forward, claiming her mouth with his. 

Her first response was to struggle, to claw him and shove him away. But he held on, kissing her with such an unusual combination of brutality and tenderness that she gave in, wrapping her arms around his strong shoulders, with only a shirt, a thin nightgown, and a gun between them. 

When he released her, she was still trembling, and trembling badly. "Dean…are you telling me that the Colt…" she couldn't finish, he had shaken her that badly with just a kiss. 

"Really kills everything?" He finished for her. She glanced up at him, and he calmly held her gaze. "It does, what; you of all people didn't believe it?" She nodded slowly, seemingly unable to take her eyes off of him. "Bela," he said her name softly, tenderly, tracing small circles with his thumb along the small of her back. "We need that gun—Sammy's gonna need that gun if he's going to survive. I know you don't care for me, but don't tell me that you're willing to sign Sam's death certificate just for some freakin' money."

His had made the journey back to her check, leaving a long trail of warm skin that was begging for his touch again. Unable to take the pain in those hazel eyes anymore, Bela turned her head and began to kiss the palm of his hand. She couldn't believe herself, here was Dean Winchester, lodging a gun in between her breasts, demanding her most valuable artifact and what she wanted most was _**him**_? There was something in his desperation and anger that turned her on. She needed to get him out of there fast. "Sam's got you," she mumbled into his hand, "what does he need that gun for?" 

Dean sighed, and Bela could feel the weight and pain behind that sigh, and dropped the gun. Turning away from her, Dean stalked to the open window. Something in the way he stood there, with the moonlight falling onto face, was so poignant that it touched Bela. "Dean, is there something you're not telling me." It wasn't a question.

Staring out the window, Dean felt his eyes begin to water. He had come here, ready to kill if necessary, to get that damn Colt back just so Sammy would have some sort of protection when he was gone. "I can't kill you." The words were torn from his lips in a choking whisper. "God knows I want to, and probably should kill you but I can't." Bracing himself, he turned to face her, ready to tell her the truth. 

"Bela, I'm dying. Sam's going to be alone and he'll have to keep up the fight without me and he's going to need that damn gun!" His voice, usually so cool and collected, was breaking. "You know I don't beg, but please Bela, if you've got any shred of humanity in you let me take that gun to Sam, it's the least I can do to protect him."

At the beginning of his little speech Bela had sunk down onto the bed, trying to absorb what he was saying. By the time he was finished, she had buried her face in her hands as her shoulders began to shake. _Dear lord, Dean is dying…and I've…I've made him so miserable…what have I done? _

Taking several deep breaths, she raised her head from her hands looked up to Dean. He was leaning against the window, fully composed again, stoic mask back in place. Bela knew if she were to mention to pain he had revealed to her just a moment ago he would brush it off with some smart-assed comment, but never before in her entire life had she wanted to help someone so badly. If there was one person in the world who should not feel pain, not like this, it was Dean Winchester. He was just too strong. 

"How?" Dean just looked at her uncomprehendingly. "How are you dying? Is it cancer or something, cause I've got lots of money, I can get you treatment-" she cut off, seeing the sad smile on his face was enough to tell her there was nothing she could do. She hung her head, wishing she didn't feel so damn helpless.

"Bela, I'm going to hell. I made a deal with a demon." Her head snapped up, looking at him in shock. "Bela, I had too. Sam…he…was dead and I couldn't…just leave him like that. So I made a deal and got myself a year, that's it." 

"You arranged your own damnation…for your little brother?" 

Dean narrowed his eyes at her, "Yeah, I did. I'm sorry if it's a concept that you cannot understand." Bela went from a state of shock to fear as he crossed the room again, coming in front of her and grabbing her shoulders. There was anger in his eyes, and desperation. "But I love Sammy, he's all I got. I've been watching over him since we were kids and I'm not going to screw up now!" 

She reached up and gently touched his cheek; she wasn't afraid anymore. Dean wouldn't hurt her; she didn't know why she couldn't see it before. He was just reaching the edge of his endurance. "How long?" 

Letting go of her shoulders, Dean sank to his knees before her at the edge of the bed. All the anger, all the fight, drained out of him at her words. "Less than a week now." His shoulders, for a brief moment, began to shake and just one dry sob broke from him. 

Sitting there, watching a broken man struggle to keep it together, Bela struggled as she tried to find a way to help him. She had nothing. Pulling together all the calm resolve that she could muster, she whispered, "It's in the safe, behind the picture over on the wall." 

"Thank you," he whispered, it was so soft that she could barely hear it. Turning away from her, he went to retrieve his gun.

Bela sank down onto the bed, her arms around her own shoulders as she gave herself the comfort she wanted to give Dean. Now, as she lay in her bed listening to Dean remove the painting from the wall, she wanted nothing more that to forget the last 15 minutes of her life. Oh how she wished that Dean had just let her sleep and stolen the gun without her noticing. She didn't want to know his pain, she was just fine being ignorant of it, but now that she knew, she knew that she would never forget this night. 

Dean closed the safe, causing Bela to smile. She hadn't even needed to tell him the combination. Closing her eyes, expecting Dean to show himself out, she was surprised when she felt him sit on the bed next to her. Not bothering to open her eyes, she whispered, "You have your gun, what are you doing?" 

Smiling down at her, Dean whispered back, "Something I've wanted for a while." Covering her mouth with his, he kissed her so deeply that she had no choice but to respond. Reaching up, she pulled off Dean's shirt, only to find another one underneath. "Dammit Dean! Why do you always have to wear layers?" 

"Just to piss you off," he whispered in her ear, pausing to nibble on it. He leaned back, pulling of her nightgown then allowing her to tear off his undershirt. Dean allowed her to pull him onto her, flesh on flesh as they continued to explore each other's bodies. For awhile, Dean forgot that he was dying. He forgot that he was going to hell and that no one would be able to take care of Sammy. For the first and only time in months, he did something for himself. Well, for himself and the one who moaned his name so deliciously into the night. 

_**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

Curled up together in a drowsy haze, Bela let herself listen to Dean's quick heartbeat, snuggling as close to him as possible as it slowed. "Dean…"

"Sssh, honey, get some rest." 

"Dean," she pressed on, looking up at his face. "I think I could possibly…maybe, 

be falling in love with you." 

Dean closed his eyes, whispering, "I know." Pulling her closer to him, he kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "Now get some sleep." 

She closed her eyes, let the slow beat of his heart lull her into sleep. He held her, long after she drifted off, wondering what it would be like if things had been different. If he wasn't dying, would this have worked? Dean Winchester and Bela Talbot? God it was almost a joke. She had spunk, but was a major bitch and a pain in the ass. Still, maybe…. 

Finally, around dawn, he managed to disentangle himself without waking her, a skill that time and experience had perfected. Quietly he got dressed, sliding the Colt into the waistband of his jeans. Looking back at her, deep in some peaceful dream, Dean realized that he had to leave before she woke up. Otherwise he wasn't sure he could leave her at all. "Damn, you're beautiful."

With nothing else to leave, he slipped off the amulet he wore, the one Sammy had given him all those Christmas's ago, and dropped on the bed. He hoped Sam would understand. Scribbling a quick note, he dropped it next to the amulet and walked out, not allowing himself to look back. 

_**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

When Bela awoke the next morning, it was long past dawn. Feeling the best she had in years, she rolled over to face Dean, only to find his half of the bed empty. "Dean?" she whispered into the still, lonely air of her expensive hotel room. The only response was the beating of her own heart. 

Then she noticed it, lying where she had curled up with Dean in the late hours of the night. His amulet, the one he always wore and was never caught without, lay on top of a hastily written note. _Remember me. _

Feeling her heart clench suddenly in her chest as a tear rolled down her cheek, she whispered to the paper, "Always." 


End file.
